Mani once sang of freedom in Afghanistan. Now, silenced, she’s desperate to escape. Will Australia help?

The Guardian
Sun 1 Sept 2024

This brave journalist and young women like her are bearing the brunt of the failed democratisation project: ‘Hope is fading’

It’s three years since Australia pulled its final troops out of Afghanistan. Their presence over two decades saw the country emerge from the ashes of civil war, embrace a relative peace and a fragile democracy before falling back into the darkness of fundamentalism under the Taliban.

Now young women like Mani are bearing the brunt of this failed democratisation project. Like other Afghan women and their families, she is desperately seeking asylum in Australia – somewhere safe to live.

I’ve known Mani for years. She’s a brave journalist hailing from Afghanistan’s Hazara minority and has faced crippling oppression under the onslaught of Islamic State and the Taliban. She has been threatened and chased by the terrorists because of her profession, her ideals and her identity. But this young journo is holding on; punching back at the militants with her critical reporting. She told me that she is now running out of time, options and, most importantly – hope.

During Australia’s presence from 2001 till 2021, Mani had the chance to study and dream of a life filled with opportunities and equality.

Now, at 25, she feels abandoned and left to suffer at the mercy of a regime that has aggressively removed women from all areas of public life.

“I had a dream and I was committed to nurture values of freedom and equality in Afghanistan through poetry and journalism,” she told me via phone from an undisclosed location.

“But the world left us alone at the mercy of the wolves who have no shame in beating, silencing and killing women.”

When I asked why she chose Australia for her humanitarian visa application, she said the country had been a second home for her ethnic Hazara community, who have thrived and contributed immensely to the society. “I have always admired [Australian Afghan broadcaster] Yalda Hakim and want to be like her,” she said.

Girls of Resistance and Enlightenment remains her favourite poem; she it sang at many public gatherings in Kabul to warn against the Taliban’s takeover of the country:

Beating their chests for freedom

Holding on to wisdom

Enlightened like the sun

Chanting for liberty

Girls of love and freedom

Girls of resistance and enlightenment

The Taliban supreme leader, Hibatullah Akhundzada, has empowered his regime’s moral policing unit to ensure that women completely veil their bodies – including their faces – in thick clothing at all times in public.

This week the regime went further by introducing “frightening” laws that ban women from speaking in public. The laws label female voices as potential instruments of “vice” that need to be censored, regulated and silenced.

This means women must not be heard singing or reading aloud, even from inside their houses. “Whenever an adult woman leaves her home out of necessity, she is obliged to conceal her voice, face and body,” the new laws say.

Australia has condemned this latest effort to silence Afghan women and girls.

“We stand together with the women and girls of Afghanistan, and in support of their human rights,” the foreign affairs minister, Penny Wong, tweeted this week.

But is Australia really doing all it can to ensure that vulnerable and deserving women like Mani are getting a fair chance of life and a safe haven?

Mani submitted her visa application last year and only received a file number in February. “I haven’t heard anything [from the Department of Home Affairs] since then,” she told me. “I am in a desperate state of waiting while my options, resources and hope are fading.”

To halt the drastic erosion of human rights – and reverse this course towards the darkness in Afghanistan – Australia must indeed stand together with Afghan women and girls. This starts by expediting their humanitarian visa requests and giving them the freedom that they so badly deserve.

Only then can Australia say that it has ensured Afghan women are able to raise their strong voices – to never be silenced again.

  • Shadi Khan Saif is a Melbourne-based journalist and former Afghanistan and Pakistan news correspondent

Mani once sang of freedom in Afghanistan. Now, silenced, she’s desperate to escape. Will Australia help?
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Biden administration botched retreat from Afghanistan. Women are still paying the price.

Portrait of Nicole Russell

Nicole Russell

USA TODAY
August 29, 2024
Vice President Kamala Harris should be held accountable for the devastating cruelty the administration’s choices unleashed.

It’s hard to believe that in 2024, millions of women aren’t allowed to attend school past age 12, to bare their faces on the street or even to speak while in public.

Yet, that is the case for women in Afghanistan, living under the Taliban’s terror-inducing rule.

For the Biden-Harris administration, the consequences of America’s botched withdrawal from Afghanistan in 2021 still echo today.

Will Vice President Kamala Harris be held accountable in this year’s election for the administration’s chaotic retreat, which enabled the Taliban to seize power again? It’s doubtful.

The Taliban strip women of equal rights, dignity

Burqa-clad women walk in Kabul, the capital of Afghanistan, on Aug. 14, 2024, three years after the U.S. military left the nation and the Taliban took over.

Last week, Taliban rulers formally codified strict new morality policies into law, including a ban on a woman’s ability to speak and bare their faces in public.

“According to this law, the Ministry (for Prevention of Vice and Propagation of Virtue) is obligated to promote good and forbid evil in accordance with Islamic Sharia,” the Justice Ministry said in a statement.

The new laws are set out in a 35-article document regulating every aspect of Afghans’ lives. Article 13 requires that women veil their bodies and cover their faces in public and that their clothes cannot be form-fitting or short. Women are also banned from singing, reciting or reading aloud in public. They also cannot look at men who they are not related to by blood or marriage.

The rules affect men, too. All men must grow beards, and no one can play music in their cars.

The media also must abide by sharia law; the publication of images containing living beings is now banned.

Penalties for violations include “warnings of divine punishment, verbal threats, confiscation of property, detention for one hour to three days in public jails, and any other punishment deemed appropriate.”

Where’s the outcry from women in America?

Afghan women have long endured abuse at the hands of the Taliban, who first seized full control of the country in 1996. But after the terrorist attacks on the United States on Sept. 11, 2001, American and allied forces pushed the Taliban from power.

That set off two decades of war that ended with the Afghan government’s collapse and the Taliban’s return to rule in 2021, soon after President Joe Biden ordered U.S. forces to abandon the country.

Despite these atrocities, there has been little outcry recently from women’s groups in America, where gender parity has made extraordinary progress in the past few decades. Their silence about the suffering of Afghan women is stunning.

At the Democratic National Convention last week, a Planned Parenthood mobile clinic was on site to offer abortion pills to women and vasectomies for men. Though Planned Parenthood released a statement on Israel and Gaza in December, my search on the organization’s website for a statement on Afghanistan or the Taliban turned up zero results.

While Afghanistan may seem far from the United States, that distance should not encourage silence. In fact, it is because women in America enjoy so many rights that we should be the first to speak in defense of fellow women stripped of basic human rights by a radical regime.

Biden, along with Harris, initiated a chaotic withdrawal from Afghanistan that resulted in the deaths of 13 U.S. service members and more than 100 Afghans when a bomb explode near the Kabul airport.

The disorganized exit meant that the U.S. military abandoned up to 200 U.S. citizens and tens of thousands of Afghan allies to oppression under Taliban rule.

During Harris’ DNC acceptance speech Thursday night, the Democratic presidential nominee left out any mention of the botched withdrawal and Afghanistan’s ongoing suffering. She did claim that her administration would be pro-military and tough on tyrants. How could she be tough on tyrants but silent about the Taliban?

Before America’s sudden exit, Afghan women were able to attend schools and universities and even hold elected office. Now, they face terrible oppression that denies them basic human dignity.

Harris should be held accountable for America’s disastrous withdrawal from Afghanistan and for the devastating cruelty the administration’s choices unleashed.

Nicole Russell is an opinion columnist with USA TODAY. She lives in Texas with her four kids.

Biden administration botched retreat from Afghanistan. Women are still paying the price.
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Working with the Taliban would not legitimate its rule

By Saad Mohseni

Saad Mohseni is the co-founder, chairman and executive officer of Moby Group, Afghanistan’s largest media company, and the author of “Radio Free Afghanistan.”

The Washington Post

Afghanistan still has hope for a better future. The world needs to engage in order to sustain it.

Three years have passed since the chaotic U.S. military withdrawal from Afghanistan and the takeover of the country by the Taliban. The botched exit wasn’t merely a logistical disaster but a greater failure of strategic vision: Little was done to ensure that the investments of more than 2 trillion dollars and tens of thousands of lives over 20 years to build a stable, democratic Afghanistan were safeguarded.

Forty million Afghans were simply abandoned to an uncertain future — and millions have since fled the country as a result. Years of hard-won progress has been undone as women’s roles in Afghan society, media and politics have been diminished.

And indeed, things are getting worse for women. Recently, the Taliban leadership codified new laws banning women’s voices and bare faces in public, empowering their morality ministry to regulate personal conduct and impose penalties for violations. Although it remains uncertain whether all government institutions and ministries will enforce these laws, full implementation could erase women from public life in Afghanistan.

But Afghanistan is also a more complicated place than a first glance can reveal. I am still running Tolo TV, the largest television network in Afghanistan, and my colleagues are still working in our offices in Kabul. We face great difficulties, but we negotiate and fight for our space every day in Taliban-ruled Afghanistan. Tolo News continues to report the truth: Our journalists — including female colleagues — are still reporting across the country, and we have been demanding accountability more effectively than many had anticipated. So many brave colleagues working for homegrown media inside Afghanistan continue to prove every day that although not easy, it’s still possible to be an effective, independent journalist in Afghanistan.

We find the inspiration and the courage to carry on from stories like “Kar o Ebtekar,” a series about female Afghan entrepreneurs — one of our most watched programs this year, with an audience of over 20 million. One segment followed four young Afghan women who, after the Taliban barred them from attending university, pooled resources and expertise to start a small mushroom production business. The episode about a 27-year-old fish farmer in Bamian who overcame numerous setbacks and earned the support of her husband and her community garnered over 1 million views on Facebook alone. These women are scratching out success despite severe financial constraints and absence of institutional support. And the nation is hungry for their stories.

One of the most heartbreaking consequences of the Taliban’s return to power has been the ban on girls’ schooling after sixth grade. A generation of girls is being denied the opportunity to learn, grow and contribute to their society. To try to address this tragedy, my colleagues and I took a risk last year and started producing and broadcasting science and math programs for television, radio and online to improve the access to and quality of education for all Afghan students. The programs have reached millions across the country — and students, families and teachers are demanding more.

Since the collapse of the Afghan government, the United States and its allies have pursued a policy of isolating and punishing the Taliban. They seized Afghanistan’s central bank reserves and mostly limited aid to preventing outright famine. Unfortunately, coercing the Taliban has failed. The Taliban continues to pursue its unyielding social agenda, and it appears here to stay.

The United States and its allies need to recalibrate their policies to help Afghans today, not in some imaginary post-Taliban future. Taking a more pragmatic approach to engagement with the Taliban does not mean legitimizing its rule or ignoring its human rights abuses. Rather, it means recognizing that isolation and sanctions have done little to change the situation on the ground. A policy of conditional engagement could be more effective in encouraging positive changes.

There are countless ways to approach this goal. The United States could offer dialogue on a number of issues of mutual interest — civic projects, tax collection, reduced opium production and improved security — alongside targeted economic and development support. U.S. officials would have to travel to Afghanistan to monitor progress, but this would not entail officially recognizing the Taliban. Washington could open an office in Kabul to provide consular services for eligible Afghans, perhaps staffed by contractors or third-party nationals. There are still tens of thousands of Afghans eligible for U.S. visas, but caseload processing is painfully slow without people on the ground. To signal its concern for improving the Afghan economy, the United States should initiate a process to test the Afghan central bank’s effectiveness in managing monetary policy and help improve its capacity by encouraging Turkey, Qatar and Malaysia to train young Afghan bankers.

These kinds of initiatives would set up a lot of small tests — building confidence and a track record along the way. These kinds of measures could also help alleviate the poverty crisis, which disproportionately affects women and girls.

The Taliban’s politics is complex. It is not a monolithic movement even if dissent is well contained, with officials falling in line with decisions when they are decreed. As part of my job, I speak with Taliban officials aligned with various power centers within the movement. Ultimately, the pragmatic leaders and commanders know that they have the power to move toward a seat on the global table if they can offer improvements on human rights issues.

Afghanistan still has hope. By investing in Afghanistan’s development, supporting education and women’s empowerment, and engaging pragmatically with the Taliban, the United States and its allies can help build a more stable, prosperous and inclusive Afghanistan.

Working with the Taliban would not legitimate its rule
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 Afghanistan goes back to war — against women

The Washington Post
The Taliban wants to create a society of gender apartheid.

When the Taliban took power in Afghanistan after the August 2021 U.S. withdrawal, the radical Islamist group prohibited education for all girls beyond sixth grade. The Taliban said it was just a “temporary” measure. But then the regime followed up with a procession of decrees and rules that robbed women of their rights to education, health care, a livelihood and liberty. The schools never reopened. It turns out that nothing about the Taliban’s abuse of women was temporary.

Many of these repressive measures have now been codified into a 114-page “Law on the Promotion of Virtue and the Prevention of Vice.” Taliban leaders revealed the new law, with penalties, last week in the first formal declaration of vice and virtue laws in Afghanistan since the takeover. The Associated Press viewed the text and published the details.

The new law underscores that the Taliban wants to create a society of gender apartheid, in which the government silences women’s voices, robs them of their rights and makes them totally dependent on men. Afghanistan is experiencing the worst crisis of women’s rights in the world today.

After the chaotic U.S. departure from Kabul, some diplomats speculated that the Taliban would be forced to give up the harsh rule it imposed between 1996 and 2001 because it would need international recognition to avert a severe humanitarian crisis. A Taliban spokesman announced at a news conference in August 2021 that it would not have enemies, internal or external. But these soothing promises turned out to be nonsense. The Taliban of today is every bit as dehumanizing as the old.

According to the AP account of the new law, it mandates that women veil their bodies at all times in public and dictates that a face covering is essential to avoid temptations. Clothing should not be thin, tight or short. Women should veil themselves in front of all male strangers, including Muslims, and in front of all non-Muslims to avoid being corrupted. A woman’s voice is deemed intimate and so should not be heard singing, reciting or reading in public. It is forbidden for women to look at men they are not related to by blood or marriage, and vice versa. The law bans the playing of music, the transportation of solo female travelers and the mixing of men and women who are not related. The law also obliges passengers and drivers to perform prayers at designated times. Further, the law bans the publication of images of living beings, the AP reported, “threatening an already fragile Afghan media landscape.”

The Taliban is destroying the country it governs. The absence of women and girls from education and commerce — aside from being a gross violation of their human rights — will harm the nation’s already floundering economy. The Taliban is afflicted with a sick and costly mysoginism. In October 2022, it banned women from choosing agriculture, mining, civil engineering, veterinary medicine and journalism as university majors, saying these subjects were “too difficult” for women. In December 2022, it banned women from public and private universities altogether.

As Sahar Fetrat and Heather Barr of Human Rights Watch have pointed out, on the day before the Taliban took over, millions of Afghan girls were in school. “More than a quarter of the members of parliament were women. Women were government ministers and judges and professors and helicopter pilots. Women were singers and painters and conceptual artists and actors. There was a girls’ orchestra.” Now all of it is gone.

The international community must not look away. Whenever there are contacts with the Taliban, other nations should include women in the delegations and speak out constantly in defense of the rights of women in Afghanistan. Overseas aid from around the world should be sent specifically to help women and girls and to keep alive the underground schools that, we are told, have been struggling to fill some of the gap caused by the Taliban’s measures.

It would help keep hope alive among these women and girls to hear the United States speak out more about their plight; many were encouraged to claim their rightful place in society during the two decades of the American presence, but now they feel lost and forgotten.

At the same time, the Taliban cannot escape accountability for this unconscionable smothering of the ambitions and daily lives of half the population. The U.S. Magnitsky Act was created to target those who grossly violate human rights; why not aim its sanctions at more the leaders of Afghanistan, who have promulgated such draconian laws?

 Afghanistan goes back to war — against women
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Treating Drug Users in Afghanistan: How to respond to a massive problem? 

Afghanistan was, until recently, famously, the largest cultivator of illegal opiates in the world. Less well-known is that it is among the countries with the highest prevalence rates of drug use. In April 2022, the Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan (IEA) banned poppy cultivation and subsequently, in January 2023, its supreme leader issued an order saying that prevention of drug use was the duty of the Islamic system and that “governors of all provinces should take necessary action” to prevent people for this harm. Most recently, on 1 July 2024, the IEA formed a counter-narcotics commission that will deal, among other issues, with the treatment of drug users. AAN’s Rohullah Sorush and Jelena Bjelica consider the massive scale of Afghanistan’s drug use problem, Emirate policies and the impact of the typically rough approach to drug rehabilitation treatments offered by the state.

I was a kid when our family went to Iran. … I left school and started working in a publishing factory. There were people who used opium in that factory. I wanted to do my job properly and not get tired easily, so I also started using opium. I really enjoyed it. It helped relieve my fatigue. 

I was still using opium after I left the factory. I enjoyed it, but the pleasure was temporary. … I used drugs for almost 14 years. I started with opium and then moved on to other drugs, such as heroin and crystal meth. Crystal changed my appearance. My teeth rotted. … When I came back to Afghanistan, I could only find opium and heroin easily. I didn’t use crystal after I returned from Iran.

Every person with a drug problem has their own story of how it all began. This man, 45-year-old Reza from Balkh, is a former drug user of 14 years who like many Afghans started using opium when he was living in Iran.[1] Opium, contrary to the movie-created myths about its effects, is often used in Iran and Afghanistan by manual labourers to get some relief from the pain of sore muscles and to suppress their appetite because it slows down the digestive system. Other explanations given by our interviewees of why they started using drugs included how it helped ease physical pain, numb trauma or because others were using them.

Afghanistan has a massive problem with drug use. The last Afghanistan National Drug Use Survey, commissioned by the Colombo Plan in 2015, estimated that the country could have had between 2.9 and 3.6 million drug users, which would translate into about a tenth of the population using drugs. 31 per cent of the households whose members were tested were found to have at least one person who was using drugs.[2] The rate of drug use was estimated to be higher in men than women (16  per cent of those tested, compared to 9.5 per cent, with children testing at a comparable rate to women) and three times higher in rural than urban areas (13 per cent compared to 5 per cent), with rural households also testing higher (39 per cent compared to 11 per cent).

The most prevalent drugs, the survey found, were opioids (including heroin, opium and prescription drugs like codeine) – 19 per cent of those tested,[3] followed by cannabis – 11 per cent and two classes of pharmaceutical drugs that are generally prescribed for anxiety and insomnia – benzodiazepines, such as Valium – 5.1 per cent and barbiturates, such as phenobarbital – 1.1 per cent. Since then, methamphetamine, often referred to as crystal meth or in Afghanistan shisha, has emerged as a new drug with widespread use (see AAN reporting from 2015 here), alongside what Afghans refer to as ‘tablet K’, a cocktail of methamphetamine, opium and MDMA/Ecstasy.[4]

Since returning to power, the Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan (IEA) has moved to address various narcotics-related issues. In April 2022, Supreme Leader Mullah Hibatullah Akhundzada banned the cultivation of opium and the production of opiates and other drugs and on 25 January 2023 issued a new order with a policy aimed at drug users:[5]

Because using drugs can slowly affect a person’s life, the Islamic system has a duty to prevent its people from using every kind of drug. Governors of all provinces should take necessary action to prevent people in their province from using drugs. Centres and treatment facilities should be established for those already addicted, which must urgently fulfil whatever is necessary for their treatment.[6]

Following the third UN-convened meeting of special envoys on Afghanistan, held from 30 June to 1 July in Doha (see this AAN dossier on previous meetings), the office of the acting Deputy Prime Minister for Political Affairs Mawlawi Abdul Kabir announced the formation of a high commission dedicated to combating intoxicants and narcotics. The purpose of establishing the commission, he said, was to combat intoxicants and narcotics, find alternative crops for farmers and set up treatment for drug users, Afghanistan International reported.

A new drug user survey is underway that will provide more detail about the current usage of drugs in Afghanistan.[7] However, the scale of the problem is not in question,[8] nor is the certainty that there is a need to act and as the 2015 Afghanistan National Drug Use Survey concluded:

Drug use is a treatable chronic illness that can be controlled with appropriate treatment and follow-up programs. Funding for treatment, aftercare, and frequent testing is a long-term investment in Afghanistan that will have very positive social and economic outcomes.

Yet, moving from recognising the need for action to taking action is not so easy, both in terms of available resources and the methods used.

The availability of drug treatment centres 

The first thing to stress is that the number of treatment facilities for drug users, particularly centres outside the public sector, has fallen drastically since the collapse of the Islamic Republic of Afghanistan in August 2021, as donor money dried up. That being said, how many drug treatment centres were actually operational before August 2021 is unclear, although there are a few pointers. The United States Department of State’s Bureau of International Narcotics and Law Enforcement Affairs (INL) reported that by 2020, it had established a network of 103 drug treatment centres providing residential, outpatient and home-based treatment services in partnership with the Colombo Plan Drug Advisory Programme (CPDAP). Several dozen drug treatment centres of various types (residential and non-residential) were also established by organisations partnering with the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime (UNODC), with others such as Médecins du Monde (MDM) also running some of their own. Over the years, a number of these centres were handed over to the Afghan government. The Ministry of Public Health (MoPH), for example, reported that it ran 50 treatment centres in 2019.

Even during the Republic, the infrastructure for treating drug users was considered insufficient, given the number of people using drugs.[9] There was also concern about the lack of trained staff in government-run centres. This was documented in a 2019 Special Inspector General for Afghanistan Reconstruction(SIGAR) report on the US government-funded drug demand reduction programmes that found that projects implemented between 2013 and 2018 had helped only three to five per cent of Afghan drug users.[10] Many centres that had been transferred to the Afghan government lost their trained staff because the MoPH did not keep its commitment to INL and had fired between 10 and 15 per cent of NGO staff working at the facilities. In some instances, SIGAR said, government officials had also forced trained staff to resign.

Afghan governments, both Republic and Emirate, have favoured large treatment centres that can admit thousands of patients, compared to donor-funded centres that cater for a maximum of 300. A case in point, as soon as the drug treatment decree was published in January 2023, was the opening of a 5,000-bed centre in Kabul (see a ToloNews report on the announcement here). Previously, the Ashraf Ghani government had opened a 1,000-bed centre on the grounds of the former military camp Phoenix in Kabul in late 2015 (see a ToloNews report from 2015 here).

Following the IEA takeover in August 2021, opportunities for treatment in smaller facilities shrank further. Many centres ceased to exist, especially those that had been supported by the US government, which froze its financial support to Kabul.

In May 2022, the Ministry of Public Health said that 44 out of 88 rehabilitation centres (not specified if all, or just government) were still active (see ToloNews report here). The most recent survey of the country’s existing drug treatment infrastructure, part of a national survey of drug use by UNDP and UNODC (see footnote 7) identified 113 centres, including three private hospitals, across 34 provinces. However, AAN was told by a source close to an ongoing survey that the data suggested that not all of them were still operational. In December 2023, The Lancet reported that only 10 per cent of treatment centres were still active:

According to email communication with Dr Abdul Qudos Saadat (Afghanistan Ministry of Public Health, personal communication) on Aug 16, 2023, following the Taliban takeover of the government and due to the reduction in international and public funds, only 10% of the drug treatment centres remained functional with international support, 44% were closed, and the remainder were running with a limited budget. Furthermore, as of Aug 15, 2023, the number of needle and syringe programmes had fallen to eight and the number of opioid substitution treatment sites had fallen to six.

A doctor from Kabul, who wished to remain anonymous, confirmed to AAN that most of the centres, especially outside the public sector, had indeed been closed:

In Kabul, most rehabilitation centres were in rented houses and after the political developments, the new government could not pay the rent, so they were shut down. For the moment, only the government-run centres are functioning and treating people with an addiction. Now, there are 59 treatment centres active all over the country. There are also huge camps in Kabul, Kandahar and Herat. The Deputy Ministry of Interior for Counter-Narcotics established these camps, but the Directorate of Narcotics of the Ministry of Public Health (MoPH) provides the services for them.

An MoPH official quoted in The Lancet article, Dr Saadat, was also quoted as saying the situation for drug users in the government camps was not good as there were no doctors and shortages of other professional staff, medicine and facilities (see also this report from Hasht-e Subh here).

AAN contacted several doctors working in the provinces to get a snapshot of the situation there. Dr Khalil Nurzai from Nimruz described the woeful under-resourcing of an 80-bed hospital for male drug users and a 20-bed hospital for women in his province:

There are no doctors in the 80-bed hospital. When there are no doctors, how can you provide treatment? How do you meet the patient’s health needs? It is even worse in the 20-bed hospital for women. There are no doctors or nurses. There is only a cook and a guard.

In Kandahar, the chief physician at the hospital for the treatment of male drug users, Dr Abdul Salaam Bashir, told AAN that there was no longer an active women’s treatment centre because the staff, including the doctors, had left the country after the fall of the Republic. However, he said that, since the re-establishment of the IEA, the capacity of the male treatment centre had increased from 70 to 100 beds.

The treatment is the same as under the previous government. Drug addicts have been rounded up, which is a good step, and I see that their number [on the streets] has decreased. There is not much relapse either because they don’t have easy access to drugs. 

He added that, to his knowledge, the IEA does plan to reopen the women’s centre, although it is not clear when.

A female medical employee in a women’s drug treatment centre in Bamyan told AAN there was insufficient capacity to treat the many drug users in the province.

There are two drug treatment centres, a 20-bed centre for men and another for women. I believe this is not enough for the number of drug users in Bamiyan. Although the IEA occasionally rounds up drug users and brings them to the treatment centre, many can still be seen in more remote of the city.

The director of a private treatment centre in Balkh, Muhammad Asif Anwari, said that MoPH’s 100-bed hospital for drug users in Balkh was still operational, but many private centres in the province had closed.

Treatment for drug users

One of the key aspects of IEA drug treatment policy is the use of force. The Ministry of Interior, for example, was quotedin February 2023 saying that more than 80,000 drug users had been “collected from across the country after the Islamic Emirate swept into power.” Although it is not clear exactly what “collected” meant, reporting from those months, such as this VOA video from April 2022, featured footage of raids and round-ups of drug users (VOA reported from Paktia and Daikundi provinces). In February 2023, ToloNews reported that 17,000 drug users had been ‘collected’ in the past month, including 60 women, some of them found under the flyover in Pul-e Sukhta in Police District 6 in west Kabul (see AAN’s previous report for background on this location). Officials in neighbouring Police District 5 said they had found 60 corpses during those operations.

By December 2023, according to the chief of staff for the Deputy Minister for Counter-Narcotics, Hasibullah Ahmadi, nearly 100,000 drug users had been rounded up across Afghanistan and taken to rehabilitation centres since the Emirate regained power (see this ToloNews report).[11] Once taken to a centre, drug users are subjected to zor darmani (referring to what, in English, is called ‘involuntary treatment’),[12] ie drug users are detained like criminals and forced to stop taking drugs in what is colloquially known as ‘cold turkey’. It is a method, says the UNODC, that is seldom effective and goes against basic human rights and freedoms. It often involves cold baths, staying in prison-like conditions, no painkillers and restriction of movement, including binding patients to beds. The first Emirate took the same approach, as described in detail by David Macdonald in his book, ‘Drugs in Afghanistan: Opium, Outlaws and Scorpion Tales’. The Republic’s drug treatment regime was subject to more external scrutiny than the IEA, but in the large treatment centres during that era, patients were often also subject to ‘cold turkey’ roughness.[13]

The private practitioner in Balkh, Dr Muhammad Asif Anwari, praised the Emirate for rounding up drug users, even though he did not think it a solution in itself:

I really admire the IEA for rounding up drug users from the streets and other places. It’s a positive step and a preventative measure. I believe this stops more people getting accustomed to drugs. This is something the previous government failed to do. In fact, in the last years of the Republic, drug users were everywhere, even in the space between two roads. It was really awful and had a bad effect on people, including schoolchildren, passing through those areas. Now, we don’t see drug users in public areas or under bridges. However, this doesn’t mean their number’s gone down or that many have been provided with treatment. I know people who use drugs in their homes and [other] places where the government can’t see them and in sarais [shopping malls or commercial premises]. At least in the northern provinces, such as Balkh, Baghlan, Samangan, Sar-e Pul and Jawzjan, I’m aware that there are drug users who are too afraid of the IEA to come to public places in the way they did before.

One lesson from the Republic, he said, was that private treatment centres are more successful than government ones because of their use of psycho-social counselling:

Authorities at that time [the Republic] were admitting that only three to five per cent of those treated [at government centres] did not ever relapse. However, about 20 per cent of those who received treatment in private clinics didn’t relapse. The treatment process in private centres was different. They only gave medicine to drug users for a few days, but then mostly talked to them to convince them to quit using drugs. Drug users received a lot of counselling and attended meetings with other drug users who had already quit.

Another doctor from a private clinic, Dr Farhad Shafaq in Ghazni city, also questioned what happened to drug users after they were rounded up. He said many had been taken away from under a bridge in the city and then to a camp:

They kept them there for treatment for five or six months. But when they were allowed to leave the camp, they relapsed. I believe it is because access to drugs is easy. They’re available everywhere. There are many [users] under the Pul-e Maida bridge [again]. Although opium cultivation has decreased, industrial drugs, such as methamphetamine, are available on the market.

To try and understand better the experiences of drug users, we spoke to a number of current and former users about their experiences. Some had received treatment in private or public centres recently or in the past. Those interviewees who had been successfully treated for drug addiction underlined the importance of small, community-based centres with a people-centred approach. Three of our interviewees said they had relapsed multiple times, including after going through rough and often inhuman treatment in government-run treatment centres.

In the words of drug users

One of the interviewees who struggled with relapses over the years, but was eventually successfully treated in 2017 is Reza from Balkh, whose words began this report. He ascribed his success partly to the support of family and friends, especially his wife and mother, but largely to the efforts of a small NGO, Aramesh:

I didn’t believe I could be treated. … My mother and wife persuaded me to go. They even cried and said, “Please, for God’s sake, go and see yourself. Many people have received treatment and you might too. Think about yourself and about us. You can’t live this way anymore and you have brought us trouble.” I couldn’t bear to see my mother and wife crying. They hadn’t done before. I think they had really lost their patience. So, I went to the private treatment centre, Aramesh. When I went there, I found it was really different from the treatment centres in Iran. 

They had the same method as the centre for motadan-e gomnam [Narcotics Anonymous]. They held many meetings with drug users and gave them books to read – if they could [read]. Many drug users who’ve been successful in quitting [still] attend these meetings. I myself attended many meetings. They got me to understand that I was sick. They got me to believe that I was the only person who could decide and that I could help myself and my family and quit using drugs. … I’ve been clean for around seven years now.

35-year-old Muhammad who lives in Sar-e Pul province was also helped by Aramesh, in 2017 and has not used drugs since. He was born in Iran, but after he returned to Afghanistan in 2004, he started using opium.

I got a job as a teacher. I worked there for two years and became friends with a few people who were using opium. I thought I could use it too, so I began using it and enjoyed it. I was not using much at the beginning – once in two or three months. Then, I fell in love with a girl in the area. I sent my family to her home to ask her parents to let me marry their daughter. They agreed. I was happy. I got married, but my wife and the rest of the family didn’t know I was using opium. 

Soon, he said, he began using opium more regularly. He got fired after the school principal discovered he was a drug user. He found another job at an office but left it after six months. In 2016, his family found out about his drug use and sent him to a government-run centre, but he relapsed. He eventually found Aramesh through a friend who had used to take drugs:

He gave my brother the centre’s card and told him to take me there. He told my brother it was the only centre that could help me. I went there with my wife and stayed for 72 days. My life, my mind and my thoughts changed while I was there. They helped me understand I was sick and that I could get better if I could muster the will to quit. I attended many meetings. I’ve been clean for around seven and a half years now. I have a job and I have my family. I kept my wife from leaving me and I have a happy life.

Another positive account, again via a Narcotics Anonymous programme, was given by 38-year-old Khalid from Mazar-e Sharif. He had been a user of various drugs for 12 years, he said, but had now been clean for five years and six months.

When I was very young, I was looking for fleeting pleasures and that is why I started using opium. Gradually, I began to use heroin and then crystal meth. I used drugs for 12 years. I lost everything. I lost my job. I tried several times to quit, but every time I could remain clean for a week or two and then I began using drugs again. Finally, I got to know about Narcotics Anonymous, where I went for detoxification and attended several meetings helping people withdraw from drugs. I’m still in touch with them and still attend meetings, after finding out that they hold them outside the centre as well. I began to read books with other attendees. They helped me overcome my addiction.

Karim, a high school graduate living in Kabul, said he had used drugs for seven years. He used to spend most of his time in Shahr-e Naw Park but described how lucky he was that his family had allowed him to come home at night. He managed to stop using drugs, he said, after a good friend encouraged him to seek help in a treatment centre:

I went to the treatment centre in Jangalak [a neighbourhood in east Kabul] in 2022 and I was there for 45 days. My friend was working there. Quitting drugs is really difficult, but if you’re determined, you can do it. I thank God, and then my friend, who helped me stop using drugs. I have been clean for a year and a few months. … 

The situation in Janglak treatment centre is not that proper. I mean it’s not as good as it should be. They don’t provide services for drug users. When I had the desire to use drugs [waqt-e ke khumar meshodam], they got me to take a cold bath. Sometimes, they gave me pills to get rid of the pain. I am happy now to have received treatment and recovered.

Dost Muhammed from Mazar-e Sharif was a drug user for 15 years. He relapsed several times and lost his reputation and wealth during those years. Seven months ago, the IEA counter-narcotics department came to his shop:

They took me to a camp by force. I was in the camp for three months. The situation in the camp was terrible because there were many drug users in one hall. There were beatings and cold-water baths. They didn’t give us enough food and there was no medicine.

He said he thought to himself that in order to get out of his situation and regain his family’s trust, he had to quit using drugs. He was helped, he said, after leaving the camp by Narcotics Anonymous. “Fortunately, I managed to succeed,” he said. “I’m clean. I have my shop and can work. My family and the society trust me.”

Another drug user from Kabul, Sharif Wahidi, told AAN about how both he and his brother had been using cannabis for several decades, but scarcity of cannabis under the Emirate, which had driven the price up, had made it unaffordable and they had stopped or substantially reduced their use of it.

I’ve been using cannabis for more than 20 years. … I used to smoke cannabis three or four times a day as it was cheap and easily available. Now, the Emirate is really serious in dealing with drug users. Cannabis is still available, but it’s too expensive. A small amount of cannabis costs 3,500 afghanis [USD 49], so I can’t smoke often. I can use it only once every night, but a very small amount. I’m trying to quit it forever and hope I can make it. 

Sharif said his brother had quit smoking cannabis after 40 years of using it.

He has become very depressed and prefers to be alone. He stays far from his family in his small garden. I think the reason my brother got depressed is the fact that he quit using drugs all at once. He should have stopped gradually. I don’t want to face the same problem, so I will stop slowly. 

One of our interviewees was still struggling with drugs. 28-year-old Turab Jaffari said he had been taking drugs for more than 10 years. The police took him by force to a treatment centre in April 2022,[14] but once he got out, he said, he relapsed:

I was under a bridge in Ghazni city when the Taleban police arrested me and forced me to go to a camp. I didn’t want to stop using drugs. I was there for two months. There were a lot of problems: too many drug users and no doctor. They provided us with little food and forced us to take cold showers. I didn’t have access to drugs there. After two months, they let me leave. Once I got out, I returned to the same area, under the bridge and resumed using drugs. I have nowhere to go. My parents and sisters are in Iran. A brother of mine is living here in Ghazni, but he doesn’t allow me to stay in his home. 

He says that he cannot quit without help from family and friends:

I have no job and no one to support me, so I can’t quit drugs. I have been using drugs for more than ten years. Now I go to different places so the Taleban won’t arrest me again. I go under the bridge with some other users, and when one of us notices the Taleban coming, we escape and go to another area. 

Sharif, the cannabis smoker in Kabul, also reported that there, much of the problem had gone out of the public sight. He used to see drug users in his neighbourhood, he said, but the government had rounded them up and there were no longer many on the street. However, he said, it cannot control what people do at home.

There are many others who use drugs in their homes where the government doesn’t have control. Many young boys aged 15 to 16 use cannabis and cheap tablets such as zeegap or pregabalin [a medical drug used to treat anxiety, epilepsy, nerve pain and help support opioid withdrawal]. There are others who use tablet K, but it’s also expensive, so young boys can’t afford it. They buy pregabalin instead.

To sum it up

There are many reasons why drug use has become such a major problem in Afghanistan: traditional use of opium as pain relief medication; increasing contact with opiates (eg as cultivation, processing and trafficking all grew in volume); lack of public awareness of the harms done by drugs; and the need to treat trauma and mental health problems caused by forty years of wars and uncertainty.

War, over the 40 years, proved fertile ground for an illicit opium industry to flourish. During the Republic, the insurgency and counterinsurgency led to instability and corruption facilitated the expansion of drug cultivation and trade. The large-scale poppy fields no may longer exist, but stocks of opium paste are not yet run down. Even if opium and its derivatives become less easily available, as is evident from our interviews, drug users will switch, if their preferred drug is not available and demand from the enormous number of existing drug users will also continue to drive supplies. This is a big market and a business opportunity that some will not miss.

Given the diminished production of opiates in Afghanistan, we might witness an increase in synthetic drugs, like meth and tablet K. When it comes to meth, the IEA has made noticeable efforts to curb large-scale meth production (see this 2023 Alcis analysis), but small-scale meth production facilities are not so easy to detect. We might also see an increase in the use of prescription drugs, such as Valium, barbiturates and phenobarbital, as long as the sale of drugs over the counter remains unregulated and control is lax.

As to trying to reduce demand for drugs, neither the Emirate nor the Republic have had much success in dealing with Afghanistan’s massive drug use problem, as is evident from our report. Both administrations have favoured large treatment centres at the expense of the network of NGO-led and donor-supported community treatment centres, which have been largely unsupported and unappreciated by the government. Despite a multitude of evidence from the last 20 years that small treatment centres and the support of family and friends are crucial for users successfully coming off drugs, it seems that all Afghan governments think that the mass treatment facilities are a ‘silver bullet’ for the problem. All our interviews show that dedicated, gentle and personalised care has long-term positive effects, while rough and depersonalised treatment tends to lead to relapse.

Edited by Roxanna Shapour and Kate Clark

References

References
1 The 2009 UNODC Drug Use Survey, based on interviews with 2,614 male Afghan drug users, found that 40 per cent of men in the sample began using opium when they were  in Iran.
2 See page 7 of the Afghanistan National Drug Use Survey for the methodology used.
3 The test survey suggested opium to be the most commonly opioid used, but, for example, among urban women, the most common drug used was the opioid codeine, a product sold as a pharmaceutical to treat pain in combination with other medications such as paracetamol. Cough syrup may also include it.
4 The name, tablet K derives from the Russian word for this pill, tabletka.
5 On 5 April 2022, the Amir issued a decree (#31) that: 

[C]ultivating opium poppy in Afghanistan is completely forbidden. From this time onwards, no one should cultivate poppies on their land. Anyone who plants them, their crops will be destroyed and they themselves will face Sharia procedures.

Likewise, using, transporting, selling, trading, importing and exporting of all types of drugs, such as alcohol, heroin, shisha [methamphetamine], tablet K [a ‘dirty cocktail of methamphetamine, opium and MDMA, aka ecstasy], hashish and all other types of drugs, as well as drug-producing plants, is forbidden.

A translation of the order can be read in the AAN publication, ‘Decrees, Orders and Instructions of His Excellency, Amir Al-Mu’minin, as published in the Official Gazette on 22 May 2023 (31), p41.

The IEA enforced the ban on cultivating opium from autumn 2022 onwards. It has still to stop trade in opium paste and other opiates, according to the UNODC and David Mansfield and Alcis. See AAN’s 15 November 2023 report, ‘Prosperity or Penury: The political and economic fallout of the opium ban in Afghanistan’.

6 A translation of the order can be read in the AAN publication, ‘Decrees, Orders and Instructions of His Excellency, Amir Al-Mu’minin, as published in the Official Gazette on 22 May 2023’, (#2234), p87.
7 The new national survey on drug use in Afghanistan is a joint effort by the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) and the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime (UNODC) and commenced in June 2022.
8 There have been some figures reported in the last few years: they point to higher figures since 2015.  Afghanistan’s problems with drug use may have worsened since the last survey was conducted. In February 2023, ToloNews, without providing a source, reported the number of drug users to be estimated as between three and five million. In March 2022, acting deputy Prime Minister Mullah Abdul Salaam Hanafi, in a meeting with a delegation from the International Rescue Committee (IRC), said one million women and children were using drugs nationwide.
9 The then Executive Director of UNODC, Antonio Maria Costa, wrote in the preface of the 2009 Drug User Survey: 

Only ten percent of drug users surveyed had received a form of drug treatment, although 90% of them felt that they were in need of it. This leaves around 700,000 Afghans with no access to drug treatment ‐ and another generation on the way.

10 The report details how the State Department’s Bureau of International Narcotics and Law Enforcement Affairs (INL) spent over 50 million dollars between January 2013 and April 2018 on 41 drug treatment projects, which were implemented by the intergovernmental Asia-Pacific regional organisation, the Colombo Plan and UNODC.
11  BBC Persian quoted Deputy Minister of Interior for Counter-Narcotics Abdul Haq Hamkar, saying: “Information obtained from investigating drug users provided good clues to discover, identify and arrest people in the drug distribution network.”
12 See these two video footages by the Spanish news agency EFE here and by Al Jazeera here. Both are from 2023.
13 During the Republic, the MoPH also had a policy for the community-based services for treatment of drug users (the report is undated, but refers to 2012-2016 sources). The purpose of this policy was to gradually lessen the institutional isolation of individuals with addiction while providing services to the necessary population where they live and work. The policy had different phases, such as the pre-treatment phase (3-4 months), primary treatment phase (45 days) and aftercare and rehabilitation phase, consisting of a follow-up phase (intensive up to 90 days) and then follow-up for one year with relapse prevention. A doctor from one of the treatment centres in Kabul said that the policy was for the entire country, but it was implemented incompletely in some places in government hospitals. For example, in Janglak treatment centre for drug users, said, “In Janglak treatment centre, we had community-based services for addicts. Addicts who were not able to come to the centre were in bed in their homes and psychotherapies and social counselling were presented to them in their homes.”
14 For an illustration of what ‘under the bridge’ looked like, see this Al Jazeera photo essay from 2022.

Treating Drug Users in Afghanistan: How to respond to a massive problem? 
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Documentary tells story of Afghan withdrawal through eyes of interpreters

A U.S. Army vet and filmmaker explores the Afghanistan war and its ending through his interpreters, Ismail and Saifullah Haqmal.

Working as an interpreter alongside U.S. forces in Afghanistan for over a decade didn’t quite prepare Ismail Haqmal for life in Texas.

“In Afghanistan, we have a very social life. We socialize a lot,” Ismail said. “It was very hard for us to come here, where life is very individualized. There were a lot of restrictions because we did not have more people to socialize with, and in the beginning, there were not a lot of Afghans around.”

He wondered if the individual lives many Americans lead took a deeper toll.

“A lot of people have mental problems because they don’t have many friends to socialize with,” Haqmal said.

But soon, he began seeing a growing curiosity about Afghan culture among his neighbors in San Antonia, Texas.

Ismail Haqmal in front of the white house during demonstrations about the Afghanistan withdrawal. (Photo courtesy of Robert Ham)

“They’ve realized how our culture is, and they got used to it. They love it. They love our food. Now, all of my neighbors on my street know me. We exchange things and invite each other for events or special occasions,” Ismail said. “They really want to study Afghanistan culture. They say, ‘Yeah, that’s a good thing.’ But we innovate in America because we love it, and all need this.”

Ismail’s story as an interpreter with U.S. forces and his move to the U.S. is the subject of  “Interpreters Wanted,” a new documentary by U.S. Army veteran and filmmaker Robert Ham.

The documentary details the harrowing experience of Ismail and Saifullah Haqmal, brothers who worked as Ham’s interpreters during his 2009 deployment to Afghanistan. It tells the story of the U.S. withdrawal from Afghanistan — which ended three years ago this week — through their eyes.

“Interpreter’s Wanted”  is streaming on VET TV’s website. The site is offering a 2-day free trial to view the documentary for those who sign up using the code “afghanistan.”

“This is a very great story about Afghanistan. At least they can feel and see what is the ordinary life of an Afghan or those who put their life on the line and realize what the situation in Afghanistan is,” Haqmal said. “As long as we can get it to more Americans and more people, that’ll be great. They will realize how important Afghanistan is. That story is not over, and you cannot just say, ‘Okay, forget about Afghanistan.’”

Telling Haqmal’s story, and through him, the story of the end of the Afghan war was Ham’s goal.

“As far as I’m concerned, I want to touch people’s hearts and minds with the story of the brotherhood of those we served with — our allies — and the importance of when we go to war, the main goal is supposedly to win that war and basically created a better space for those people that country,” Ham said. “Now, because we didn’t do that, I think the sacrifice of those we left behind needs to be heard.”

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But Ismail and Saifullah were among the lucky ones. Ismail was able to leave Afghanistan in 2017, three years before the American withdrawal ended at Hamid Karzai International Airport.

This week marks the 3rd anniversary of the chaotic final days of that evacuation.

Ham’s documentary highlights the struggles of Afghan interpreters before and after the withdrawal. Fortunately, he was able to bring Ismail and Saifullah to the U.S. Saifullah, despite several setbacks along the way, arrived in the U.S. in 2016.

Ismail was still stuck in Afghanistan but arrived in the U.S. a year later, giving hope to all of their Afghan interpreters that there is still hope. But the incredibly slow process for Afghan visa approval is leaving many at risk of assassination, and there are over 140,000 Afghans still in danger.

“I’m very disappointed due to the United States policies towards Afghanistan and towards the criminal Taliban. They turn a blind eye to Taliban crimes, and there’s no accountability. They just say, ‘Okay, they’re fine.’” Ismail said. “That is really frustrating for those who worked alongside US forces in Afghanistan. We are losing our brothers and sisters. Those who put their lives in danger, when it’s the US’ turn to help them out, they haven’t. Unfortunately, they are in a very desperate situation, and it’s very hard for them to live. Their life is on the edge of a knife.”

The Taliban is actively searching for any Afghans who assisted the military as they continue to make changes to Afghanistan, including denying education to women. The Taliban’s reach doesn’t stop at the border of Afghanistan either. Some have escaped Afghanistan to Iran and Pakistan, but Ismail said they are not safe.

The non-profit “No One Left Behind” is a leading organization that rescues America’s Afghan allies to safety in the U.S. According to its website, over 140,000 Afghans are in danger. In 2023, it rescued 2,847 Afghan allies, set a goal of 7,000 in 2024, and, so far this year, rescued 1,292 Afghan allies.

“They’ve been doing a lot of work in this space for a long time and pushing for a wider understanding of the Afghan Adjustment Act, specifically surrounding how many interpreters still need to qualify for SIVs and who can get into America,” Ham said. “There’s still tens of thousands left behind. So, the biggest goal of ‘Interpreters Wanted’ is, how do we get those who deserve to be here through the process as quickly as possible.”

Documentary tells story of Afghan withdrawal through eyes of interpreters
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How Britain blundered into war in Helmand to please the US

How Britain blundered into war in Helmand to please the US
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‘That little devil is filming’: Director’s time with the Taliban

Emma Jones
Entertainment reporter
BBC News
22 Aug 2024
Rolling Narratives Image from documentary Hollywoodgate, showing the Taliban, sitting in a row, in front of a crowd of people
Documentary Hollywoodgate has been a hit at international film festivals

In August 2021, the world watched desperate scenes of multitudes fleeing Afghanistan as the Taliban swept into the capital, Kabul.

Having regrouped in the decades after being driven out by the invasion that followed the 11 September attacks and emboldened by the agreed withdrawal of the remaining US forces, the Taliban deposed the elected government.

But while thousands left, some had been trying to get into the country – including Ibrahim Nash’at, an Egyptian journalist and film-maker based in Germany.

After much persistence, Nash’at succeeded in getting permission to stay in Afghanistan for up to a year to film primarily with the country’s then newly appointed Commander of the Air Force, Malawi Mansour, along with a young Talib lieutenant, MJ Mukhtar, who in the film dreams of joining the air force and longs to avenge himself against the Americans.

Now, three years on from the Taliban’s return to power, the result is the documentary Hollywoodgate, named after the abandoned CIA military base where much of the filming took place.

Ten days that shook Afghanistan

But in seeking to tell the tale of the country’s new era, Nash’at found himself in an uncomfortable and often fraught position with a new government that had become known for execution and repression during its first stint in power.

“That little devil is filming,” an unknown Taliban military figure comments to Mukhtar in Nash’at’s presence. “I hope he doesn’t bring us shame in front of China.”

On another occasion, Mansour says casually in front of Nash’at that “if his intentions are bad, he will die soon.”

Asked about it, Nash’at says: “I actually didn’t understand what they were saying at the time. I’d asked the translator not to tell me bad things they said about me. I didn’t want to freak out.”

Rolling Narratives A man stands outside Hollywoodgate
Nash’at says he wanted to make a film about “this crazy space that was American, and now it’s occupied by the Taliban”

Although frequently told to stop filming, he acquired more than enough footage for this fly-on-the-wall style story, where audiences see the vestiges of American troop life such as treadmills (Mansour asks in the film for one to be sent to his house), signs for unisex toilets and a fridge containing alcohol, but also some of the $7bn (£5.4bn) stockpile of weapons that the US confirmed later it had left behind, including around 73 aircraft and 100 military vehicles.

“These monsters spent their last days here destroying everything,” says one of them about the Americans, as Mansour and his team inspect the former CIA base for the first time by torchlight.

The US military command said at the time that military equipment had been rendered “impossible” to use again, although Nash’at films some aircraft repairs being carried out and the documentary features scenes where his officials assure Mansour that some are fixed and ready to be tested in the air.

Nash’at tells BBC News he was “shocked” to discover all that had been left behind.

“When I first saw the word ‘Hollywoodgate’ on the base from the road, that was it for me,” he says.

“I thought I would make a movie about this crazy space that was American, and then it’s occupied by the Taliban Air Force. I thought it might be about how they sleep in American beds, but it’s become much more about the weapons.”

“It’s unbelievable these things even exist,” he continues. “It’s really a question for the American authorities, why did they leave all of this behind? How many more warehouses did they leave full? And right until the end of my filming, I never thought they [the Taliban] would be able to fix them.”

However, later scenes of the film, filmed one year later in August 2022, show a military parade at Bagram Air Base in front of the Afghan prime minister and minister of defence, with much of the US weaponry on triumphant display, as they host diplomatic visitors from countries including Russia, China, Pakistan and Iran. Mansour orders a flypast of several aircraft.

US media networks have since reported that weapons left behind in Afghanistan have surfaced in other conflicts around the world.

“The movie really shows the transformation of the Taliban from being a militia into a military regime,” the director claims.

Rolling Narratives Nash’at, seen in the mirror, filming the Taliban
Ibrahim Nash’at, seen in the mirror, filming the Taliban

Nash’at didn’t get to film anything after that parade, he says, because immediately afterwards the film-maker felt he had to flee, as he was told to report to intelligence officials and have his footage inspected. He went to Kabul airport instead.

“They said to me, ‘Hey, come to our office tomorrow with all your material, we want to check it,’” he recalls. “For me, this was a huge alert. So I left Afghanistan at once.”

“I know from these kinds of regimes the moment you go down that road, it’s going to be a downward spiral, it’s never going to be something good,” he says.

Nash’at explains that he went into the country as most others were trying to leave, “because as a journalist, I learned when something is no longer the hot story, no-one cares about it any more. I wanted to go in and do the opposite.”

What ultimately got him access, he adds, was that in during his career, he had “filmed with world leaders, and they [the Taliban] saw images of me with presidents”. And the film comes with a prestigious pedigree, as it is co-produced by Canadian Odessa Rae, also behind the Oscar-winning documentary Navalny.

Nash’at argues that “for me, the name Hollywoodgate is a representation of what this movie is about. It’s a film about the Taliban trying to show that they understand propaganda.

“It’s also about the Hollywood stories that we’ve been told about this kind of military world. It has so many layers for me, I feel that it’s a scandal sponsored by Hollywood itself. It functions like a Greek theatre where the failure of the US-led occupation of Afghanistan is played out.”

Rex/Shutterstock Afghan women wait to receive aid packages in Kabul
Afghan women are rarely seen on camera in the documentary

Nash’at’s filming was restricted according to the orders of the Taliban commanders he filmed with. The New York Times review of the film calls it a “frustrating documentary” as a result.

“There is no question that the director… faced tremendous danger in shooting… but the risks required to make this documentary also highlight its limitations,” it says.

However, the Guardian’s review of the film points out: “If his finished film is light on probing interviews and rigorous analysis, there’s an obvious reason: his subjects all hate him.”

Ibrahim is philosophical about this. “I think with these kinds of situations, when you take such a risk, know that there’s risk involved, then you’ll live the rest of your life knowing that there’s a risk involved. And it’s something I’ve come to accept.”

He also emphasises that his voiceover at the start of the movie tells the audience that the Taliban wanted the audience to see some of the images he filmed.

“I ask the audience, despite that, ‘may I show you what I saw?’” he says. “My job as a filmmaker is to raise questions and hope the spectators will pick up these questions and try to find answers for them. My goal is that we can see through the ways they present themselves and understand the truth of their ambitions for control—of women, of their countrymen, of their larger geo-political region.”

Ordinary Afghans are usually portrayed in the film observed from a car or truck. There are no women in this film at all – just a couple filmed in passing.

One particularly poignant image is of a woman dressed in a burka, sitting in an icy road. Other women, shapes in burkas, sit outside a shop. It looks like they are begging, but it is not clear.

‘Painful to watch’

In the three years since the Taliban took control in Afghanistan restrictions on women’s lives have increased: girls have been excluded from secondary schools, prevented from sitting most university entrance exams and women restricted in the work they can do, with beauty salons being closed, as well as being stopped from going to parks, gyms and sport clubs. Mansour talks about how his wife was a doctor before their marriage, but that he made her give it up.

The UN estimates that more than two-thirds of the country does not have enough food, and that the situation has got worse because of the economic sanctions on women.

“It’s painful to watch these images and know this is the reality. It’s very ugly. What’s happening there, it’s just painful,” Nash’at says.

“When I left, I was haunted by the futility of the material I had, thinking I might not be able to convey the pain of the Afghan people.

“Even if I was with the Taliban, I can see in people’s eyes the fear they have, the sadness, the tiredness. The poverty levels are on a scale I’ve never seen in any other country, and I’ve travelled a lot. It’s really sad that this country is where it is today and that nobody really cares about what’s happening to it.”

“I did choose to go to Afghanistan. I did choose to make this from Afghanistan,” he admits.

“All of the suffering that I’ve gone through in making the film, this is nothing compared to the daily suffering of the Afghans.”

Hollywoodgate is in UK cinemas and available on Curzon Home Cinema now.

‘That little devil is filming’: Director’s time with the Taliban
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The Guardian view on Afghanistan’s gender apartheid: don’t embolden the Taliban

The Guardian

Tuesday, 20 Aug 2024

Women barely feature in Hollywoodgate, the chilling and remarkable documentary on the Taliban currently showing in selected cinemas. Three years after their fighters marched back into Kabul in August 2021, this absence tells its own story of systematic marginalisation and subjugation.

The Taliban’s war against girls and women has intensified. Deprived of education, work and even the opportunity to walk in parks or visit public baths, half of Afghanistan’s population live especially shrunken and fearful lives. The Taliban’s rule is not merely a cruel and humiliating blow to their rights and dignity, but an existential threat. In a May report, the UN special rapporteur on human rights in Afghanistan, Richard Bennett, quoted one woman: “I was the breadwinner and now [I] have no job, no income and my children are asking for food, I have no choice but to consider suicide.”

The Taliban have already murdered lawyers, activists, students, police and other women, as well as subjecting them to torture and abuse. Concerns that they will resume public stonings persist. But there are many other ways to take women’s lives. Remove their livelihoods and they (and their children) starve. Force them into dependency on abusive men, with no escape, and they will be killed. Reduce access to healthcare and they die preventable deaths. Snatch away all hope and some will conclude that there is no way to go on.

Men and boys suffer too from the disappearance of household income, or the avoidable deaths of wives and mothers. Some are treated brutally by the Taliban for resisting the mistreatment of women or failing to police the conduct of female relatives. The punishments for failure to comply with Taliban instructions “are often arbitrary, severe and disproportionate”, the UN mission in Afghanistan noted in July.

In his May report, Mr Bennett noted that the collective impact is not only profound but mounting: “With each generation, there will be fewer women with educational backgrounds enabling them to take up roles outside the home … Afghanistan [is] losing more than its future health-care workers, with the concomitant risks to women and girls. The Taliban’s institutionalized gender oppression is depriving Afghanistan of its future women engineers, journalists, lawyers, biologists, politicians and poets.” Online education programmes are a limited and wholly insufficient substitute for proper schooling, but nonetheless need better international support. Mr Bennett has also called for gender apartheid to be criminalised under international law. He should be heard.

It is all the more grim, then, that Afghanistan’s women and girls should not only be coerced by the Taliban, but let down by those who promised support. In the third round of UN talks on Afghanistan in Doha this summer, women’s and other human rights were off the agenda, and women and other civil society representatives were excluded from the table, to the fury of rights groups, campaigners, Mr Bennett and the UN’s own women’s rights committeeFawzia Koofi, a former deputy speaker of the Afghan parliament and peace negotiator, wrote of women’s “despair, shock and disappointment”. The decision emboldened the Taliban, with their chief spokesman Zabihullah Mujahid lecturing the west on the need to “remove the obstacles hindering the development of relations”.

The international community does not face a choice between pursuing mutually exclusive aims of women’s rights and humanitarian needs, as some have suggested. Far from it: the two are intimately connected. Banning women from working in most roles in aid agencies means that many others cannot access help due to gender segregation. Afghan women demand representation when their country’s future is discussed. They must be heeded.

The Guardian view on Afghanistan’s gender apartheid: don’t embolden the Taliban
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Hollywoodgate review – chilling fly-on-the-wall glimpse of the Taliban’s takeover of Kabul

“If his intentions are bad, he will die soon.” Taliban commander Mawlawi Mansour smiles and glances at the camera as he speaks, the menace in his words not disguised by an affable show of teeth. He is talking about the director of this fascinating, chilling film – Egyptian-born Ibrahim Nash’at, who scored the documentarian’s golden ticket when he gained access to the Taliban’s inner circle in the immediate aftermath of the US withdrawal from Afghanistan in August 2021.

Ibrahim Nash'at photographed in London by Phil Fisk for the Observer New Review, July 2024.
Documentary-maker Ibrahim Nash’at on filming the Taliban: ‘The secret service asked to see my footage. I left the same day’
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The access comes with caveats: Nash’at is not permitted to film civilians, or indeed much outsidethe former US base, nicknamed Hollywoodgate. Even so, and at considerable risk, one suspects, to his personal safety, the director captures something of the plight of the ordinary people of Kabul, a distant afterthought for these war-obsessed men consumed by the thrill of new toys – the US left weapons and equipment behind worth an estimated $7bn – and the threat of old enemies.

 In UK and Irish cinemas/ on Curzon Home Cinema

Watch a trailer for Hollywoodgate..
Hollywoodgate review – chilling fly-on-the-wall glimpse of the Taliban’s takeover of Kabul
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